


Lalochezia

by metalboxes



Category: 2000 AD (Comics), Strontium Dog
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Johnny/Wulf if you squint, Swearing, introspective piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:06:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalboxes/pseuds/metalboxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things just get lost in translation.</p><p>Especially when going from 8th Century Old Norse to 22nd Century English.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lalochezia

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a tumblr prompt.
> 
> Lalochezia: The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain.

Ever since Wulf had tumbled willingly headfirst into the 22nd century and stubbornly refused to leave, he was still constantly finding new ways the newly learned english language surprised him. In the days and months after the head-whirling, machine-aided crash course in 22nd century modern English, he had discovered that some words just didn’t make it through from his native language.

He could cast about all he wanted for a direct analogy to _javlar, skit, förbannad_ , and of course the eternally juvenile yet satisfying _meinfretr_ \- or as it sometimes came out, stinkfart, which always made McNulty snort - but all of these subtly distinctive words and meanings would invariably funnel into the monolithic ‘sneck’, much like a longboat approaching the inevitable waterfall. Sometimes, Wulf sighed at the unoriginality of the future, and despaired of anyone ever understanding the finer nuances between _jävlig!_ and _jävel!_ , the key difference between stubbing one’s toe on a doorframe, and stubbing one’s toe on the new DNA encoded and activated electronux.

But not a single one of those came to mind when on the tail of Noser Ted, bounty of 30,000 creds; wanted for four counts of murder and three counts of grand larceny, he heard the exchange of gunfire, abruptly curtailed by the wounded cry of his partner. His heart leapt in his throat, forestalling any attempts at impulsive profanity. He barreled around the corner to find Johnny slumped on the floor, half propped up against a wall haphazardly stitched with a jagged, bullet-pocked line, terminating at a bloodstain which matched the one seeping through Johnny’s clutched fingers. The sound of rapidly retreating footsteps echoed away from the alley.

Wulf opened his mouth, but the only word which fell out was: “sneck”.

sneck. snecking sneck. sneeck.

….Now that he had a go at it, it really wasn’t so bad. Snecking _fasiken_. Now that sounded about right. A quiet groan pulled him back from his thoughts with a guilty start. _Verdammt_.

After only the most cursory glance around, he darted out as quickly as his bulk would allow and dragged Johnny behind a dumpster. He winced at the sizable puddle of blood left behind, and the internal litany of curses continued.

_Snecking Hel. Piss också. Saatanan s-n-e-c-k-i-n-g helvetti förbannade jävlar! Snecking sneck!!!_

He crouched down, adjusted the cascading collection of weaponry, and gently pulled the trembling, blood soaked hand away from the wound. Johnny winced, curling back protectively, but Wulf gently pushed his hands away. Oh _herregud_.

He could see Johnny shuddering with every breath as he worked, stoic against the temptation to twist away from pressing hands. At some point, the running internal monologue turned external without volition, and it really was to disguise the worried apprehension in his voice as much as it was to voice his displeasure at Johnny for being so _förbannat_ careless. Johnny interrupted his tirade with a tired groan.

"…How does it look?"

His voice was weak, and every word hard fought, but it was something. If he had the breath to talk, Wulf decided, surely it could not so bad.

"Ah…" _javlar_. Wulf leaned back and examined his handiwork. ”I am sure the gronk will be able to fix this”, he decided, somewhat embarrassed. He’d made sure to put pressure on the wound, and bandages he fumbled from one of Johnny’s numerous bandolier pouches, but that was the extent of his medical knowledge. To be honest, he wasn’t sure himself.

Johnny must have picked up on it though, the canny cucumber, and opened one tightly shut eye to look piercingly at him. It glowed faintly with exertion, then slipped shut again.

"Nn.. Nuh… Noser…" He panted harshly.

Wulf placed a broad hand on his rapidly-heaving chest to tell him to calm down. “This is no time to be thinking of der bounty, Johnny.” He said, sternly. Honestly, the little cucumber worked too hard sometimes. Under his palm, he could feel Johnny’s tiny heart beating like a jackrabbit’s. Wulf frowned.

Johnny grimaced. And without saying a word, opened his blazing eyes and shouted right into Wulf’s brain-

"I SAID _SNECKING_ BEHIND YOU"


End file.
